Pumpkins Just Happen To Be Awesomer
by OutThereOtaku
Summary: America and England may have a spook-contest every Halloween, but that doesn't explain all the tricks and treats that neither of them had anything to do with.


Pumpkins Just Happen To Be Awesomer

America and England may have a spook-contest every Halloween, but that doesn't explain all the tricks and treats that neither of them had anything to do with.

xxx

Happy Halloween! A Hetalia Oneshot!

Warnings: spoopy stuff and fluff ahead! Some scenes open for interpretation.

Rated T for minor curse words.

Use of Nation names and Human names alternatively. If you're reading this, you probably know who is who. If you don't, the only characters I used were Japan/Kiku, America/Alfred, and England/Arthur

If you notice anything wonky about the character dialogue—usually that's intentional.

* * *

XXX

Japan had noticed that England and America had an intense rivalry every year around Halloween. Now it wasn't difficult to notice something like this, as neither nation was very hush hush about it. It was more often than not that their antics affected the other countries. Last year, America had even busted into Japan's bathhouse demanding his help with the project. Since Japan's help had won America his first victory in this never ending contest, the young nation had decided to request his help _every_ year. Maybe that was why the short Japanese man found himself here in America's living room, while the nation of the same name ran around the couch like a kid on a sugar high. Come to think of it, Alfred did have an unnerving amount of pixie sticks and snickers at their world meeting today. In all likeliness, it _was_ a sugar high. Even though Halloween day wasn't for another week yet, that hadn't stopped the American from his preparations. His enthusiasm for the holiday would have been astounding, if Japan didn't know that the American was afraid of nearly everything that moved. It was unusual that he actively chose to watch horror movies and think up schemes like this, given they they terrified him so much.

"Come on Japan! Weve gotta think of the best prank ever, dude. I heard Iggy talking to Germany earlier. Germany! That guy is crazy scary, so he'll stomp me into the ground unless we can do something super badass and terrifying!"

"America, I'm sure whatever you come up with yourserf wirr be fine..."

"No way dude! You can't flake out on me, I need you!"

"Do you have a pran then?"

"Not exactly. I kinda figured something would just POP into my head, you know? I've been running around trying to get it to POP faster."

"Pop..." Japan breathed a heavy sigh watching his friend and fellow nation scramble around the house. Somehow he had a feeling that America would just keep at it until Japan thought up a plan himself. Japan may have made some pretty thrilling ghost stories, but he much preferred cute things. Helping America think of ways to terrify England didn't exactly fit with his quiet nature. Yet here he was, contemplating scare factors that would work on their English friend. He knew the American was far from patient, so Japan allowed himself to recall the past few horror movies his friend had insisted on watching with him. Though it was less watching, and more screaming on the American's end. He had guessed America would be one to lean on the classic tropes, rather than innovative thrillers. Eventually Japan put his hand to his chin in thought. Watching the other nation running in circles was about to make him dizzy.

"Run-down houses are scary... you courd find one of those," Japan offered. America stopped his quick pacing to blink at him through large blue eyes.

"Oh hell no. See, England used to live in one of those super huge Elizabethan manors. He's like perfectly at home in those creepy places. Back when I was a kid he scared me too easy there."

"Hmm... something supernaturar then? We courd summon a ghost or a demon."

"W-whhaaaaa- no! No, that wouldn't work. England is a weird one, he'd probably try to make friends with it."

"Okay, fair enough. How about a forest?"

"Thats just straight up horror cliché."

"Not necessariry... they can be scary in the dark. When you're arone, and there are creepy sounds everywhere."

"Uh... But what do we do? Just set him loose in the woods? What if the fricken Slenderman shows up or something!? Iggy might be too freaked out to even go in! Haha!"

"It sounds rike you are the one afraid to go into the woods, America..."

"Huh? Oh-heck-no! Come on Japan, I'm a hero! Just gotta make sure we don't go toooooo far, ya know?"

"If you say so."

"I DO say so, dude! Now get your ass moving, we got a buncha trees to spook up!" Unable to protest, Japan was dragged along against his will. It would have been a nice day, if the fall wind hadn't been tearing into their skin with every quick step. Luckily they weren't walking very long before a mess of trees became readily apparent in the distance. America's house in Virginia was actually already pretty close to a lush grove of trees. Though, the nation himself didn't venture out into it very often, and especially not at night time. One thing you learn pretty quickly is that trees all look the same at night, and its hella easy to get lost. That point aside, the woods were pretty large to begin with. You definitely couldn't see the end of them from the spacious hillside. The woods had much more promise than either nation had originally thought. America had set up some fire crackers, then got bored and let Japan handle the rest of the supplies.

Okay Kiku, Imma head over to Artie's place and see just what hes got planned for the spookiness. I'll be just like a spy, so don't even worry about it! Can I count on you to get this place looking totally creepy?"

"Uh, I'm not sure I am quarified for it... but I can try—"

"Sweet! I'll hit you up later then, dude! Let me know if anything cool happens. Oh yeah, and don't get eaten by a werewolf! Hahaha!"

"But Arfred... oh he's gone."

XXX

England was having one of those days where just nothing seemed to be going right. This morning he had been running late, spilling tea on his favorite jumper. The meeting had taken all day and they had gotten zero things done, with so many bigoted big-wigs arguing non-stop about every proposal he put in front of them. Well, it could have been worse, he supposed. Yes, it most certainly wasn't the absolute worst of days, just a bad one. Now it was over, therefore the Brit could simply go home to his cat and drink his favorite beverage in peace. That would most certainly make him feel more at ease. That was the theory anyway... until England unlocked the front door to see America in his doorway. The Brit staggered back in surprise, before composing himself.

"America. You are in my house." he went with the obvious. England set his briefcase down, shutting the door behind him snappily. America bounded over to him like a puppy begging for a treat. The Englishman barely had time to smirk at the resemblance before the boy was talking again.

"Yeah, remember dude, you gave me a spare key for emergencies!"

"And what, dear lad, is said emergency?"

"We have to carve pumpkins."

"What?"

"You heard me! Carve. Pumpkins." England quirked an unimpressed brow, folding his arms across his chest.

"So you made the flight all the way here, with the intention to carve into gourds... and that is an emergency?"

"Yes? Come on Iggy, pleeeeeeeaaaaaaaaassssseeeeee!" America drawled this same word out several more times before the shorter nation breathed a heavy sigh. England was nothing, if not patient. While he had been expecting a calm night, America wasn't being _too_ overbearing yet... key word: yet. It wouldn't kill him to give in to the demands this one time. That, and it would likely get America out of here faster if he just did what the childlike man wanted. England softened his annoyed green glare only slightly.

"Very well, America... Just let me go change and I'll be with you shortly." England let his arms slump, trudging himself up the narrow white steps. America waited for his former guardian to disappear around the flight of steps before he leaped into action. The American was taking every possible opportunity to snoop. He hadn't had much time before, so he was making up for that now. He had to get some kind of clue as to what England's plans were for the big prank this year, so that he could make sure his own was extra awesomer. Awesomer was a word right? Well it was now! The problem was that England's house didn't have so much as a hair out of place... unless you counted his cat's hair when it was shedding. Aside from that, there was nothing even remotely Halloween about the place. No cutesy ghost decals, no over-sized skeleton wall hang ups, and no basement filled with secret "America scaring" plans. All that was down there was the freaky pentagram that was always glowing. Yeah... America stayed away from that. He had barely lifted up a lace doily from the end table when he caught green eyes staring at him under a pair of thick black eyebrows. He almost thought it was England for a second, but closer inspection revealed it to be his Scottish fold cat, Crumpet. It was almost scary how well that cat could imitate its owner, venomous glare and all.

"Oh don't look at me like that!"

Silence.

"Hey, do you know where Artie keeps all of his diabolically British spooky things?"

Silence.

The cat moved its paw from where it was laying under the table. The small white and cream thing looked very content simply staring at him. Well, there was something distinctly different from its owner then. As far as America could recall, England didn't do much staring. America finally decided talking to Crumpet wouldn't help him any, and moved to look under the couch. There wasn't even a dust bunny to greet him. Come to think of it there was something very old fashioned to this place. If America didn't know any better, he'd assume a little old lady lived here. Since he did know better, he jumped to his feet and decided to continue the search. Well, he planned to, until he heard soft footfalls on the stairs.

"Were you just talking to my cat?" England asked on his way down, with what could have only been amusement in his voice.

"Uhhh yeah?"

"Oh... brilliant then. At any rate, what is this activity you wanted to do?" Somehow Arthur always looked smaller when he wore that pale green sweater vest. Ever the gentleman, he had to dress sharp after all. Even if it was just for America and Crumpet.

"Oh yeah!" Alfred's smile lit up in a wide grin, leading the way into the small kitchen. For the time being the place was spic-and-span, compared to the disaster zone it turned into whenever England tried cooking anything. As soon as England's gaze had passed over the large orange pumpkins resting on the round table, his eyes popped almost comically. The taller nation had at least had the common sense to lay some newspapers down underneath the two pumpkins, so they wouldn't get anything on the nice wood.

"Are they normally that large?" the Brit asked curtly.

"Yeah, dude!"

America rolled up his sleeves with a happy whistle, easily taking up one of the knives he had already laid out. He was going to use some pumpkins in his prank later on. They just had that nice Halloween effect that you didn't get with any other gourd. He'd interrogate Iggy about the spook-contest, and have fun while he was doing it. He set himself to slicing the top of the orange pumpkin, whistling as he did so. The other nation watched him carefully, seeming slightly confused when America stabbed squarely into the top of the pumpkin. England moved over to his side of the table, nearly falling over as he tried to shift the other heavy orange gourd. America quirked an amused brow at his struggle, but the short Brit merely ignored him. Mimicking America, England pushed up his white sleeves and took a knife carefully in hand. After several more seconds of him just staring at it, the taller blonde finally just laughed.

"Havin trouble there, Iggy?"

"Ugh no... I am quite capable of handling this. Though, due to its size, this will likely take us hours."

"Oh come on, dude. Its _fun_! Ya gotta have a big one so that you can make a sweet pattern in it!"

"You forget, normally I use turnips for this kind of thing. They are much more manageable..."

"Ohhh yeeeeaaaaah? Well, you'll see that pumpkins are totally awesomer!"

"Awesomer? Please tell me you didn't just say that."

"Hey, you didn't yell at me for callin you Iggy, so I figured I could get ya on that one too!"

"If I yelled at you every time you did it, we'd never get anywhere. Perhaps you ought to... instruct me in this."

"Sure thing! All ya gotta do is cut a hole into the top first," America pulled his own topper off, "Then comes the best part!" He reached a hand into the open pumpkin and pulled out the squishy innards with a bright white smile. If there was ever a time that America's Movie star grin was off-setting, it was definitely when he had a knife in one hand and pumpkin guts in the other.

"Right... fun." England set to cutting a circle into the top of his project, struggling to keep it straight. That had to be his cooking "ability" taking control there. Finally it came off in an interestingly jagged shape. He watched America's expert movements, copying it on his own pumpkin. The younger nation had evidently raided the drawers for the larges spoon in the house, and used it to scrape out the remaining guts from the thick orange bowl. When he was finished, he spared a glance at his former guardian to see that he was very concentrated on freeing the pumpkin from every last bit of its insides. He had such a focused glare on the thing, America briefly wondered if he had gotten lost in a trance or something.

"Quit being a perfectionist England, its good enough!" he snapped a finger in front of emerald green eyes, raising his voice a little louder than strictly necessary. Thick eyebrows narrowed as the Englishman looked up with half a glare.

"How can you be so sure?"

"You're just scraping into the sides now, that's totally unnecessary!" England huffed in response, but set down the spoon in agreement. He was probably about to cross his arms over his chest, but for remembering that his hands were still covered in the sticky goo. With a disgusted expression, England made his way over to the sink and carefully washed all the stuff away.

"What comes next then?" The Brit asked as he made his way back to the table across from his former colony.

"Now we get to put a picture into it! Pick aaaaaaaannyything you want." The two nations spent much of the rest of the evening carving out the pumpkins. America didn't seem to be in much of a hurry, using tat stupid strength of his to more than easily cut the little picture into the side of it. England was having a little more trouble, ultimately deciding to make it as simple as he could for the time being. Yes... turnips would definitely have been easier, he thought. They were much smaller, but that was their attractive quality. Many of them were a ghostly white color, and therefore very fitting for the holiday. It hadn't been long, but America had inadvertently started to make conversation again as they each worked away on their pumpkins.

"So England, got anything planned for Halloween?"

"Aside from our normal routine?"

"Right, right. Or maybe... what your plan is?"

"You know I couldn't possibly tell you. Doesn't that ruin the fun a bit, America?"

"Yeah. So I'm thinking you should come to Virginia this year. Can you handle that?"

"I don't see why not... It wouldn't really change anything. Virginia does have a nice aesthetic to it around this time of year. Not that London is lacking in visual appeal but... for a change, it could be quite enjoyable."

"Awesome sauce! Its a deal then!"

"Ah... I believe I am finished."

"Eh? Oh sweet! Meeeeee too!" America turned his pumpkin around to show a rather impressive rendition of creepy face with an evil smile and a devious look to its eyes. Though, America seemed to have added some thick eyebrows to the face out of some kind of spite or symbolism. It was easy enough to make the picture out. Arthur blinked in slight surprise. He hadn't been expecting it to be so intricate and detailed. America was obviously pretty used to doing this. England turned his own pumpkin around with a flush. America's blue eyes stared at it carefully for a moment, before he had a grin plastered onto his face. The design was somewhat small. All it was, happened to be a very simple winking face. In one word, it could only be described as _cute._

"Good one England! Hahaha!"

"I'll have you know this was my first attempt! No need to bloody insult me-"

"Hey I'm not! Its great! Let's go set them outside and light em!" Darkness had fallen over London long ago, and the night air brought a horrible chill with it. Several leaves were whisked through the air with the wind, trees slender branches unable to hold onto them. America easily carried both heavy pumpkins out onto the porch, while England placed a couple of small candles inside them. They stood back watching the warm glow from the inside of the orange things. America seemed very pleased with himself, slapping the other nation on the back a little too hard, he asked, "so did ya have fun?"

"Agh—well it wasn't terrible. Thank you, Alfred." The shorter nation said carefully. He was very careful not to call him America whenever they were outside.

"Snazzy! Well dude, I gotta head home! But I'll be seeing you in a couple days for the spook-off. Laters!" America tossed a wink to the Englishman, before heading off into the dark street. What an odd lad, leaving as suddenly as he had appeared. England suspected that he was really just trying to spy on him, using the pumpkin carving in lieu of an excuse.

"Right... Er, see you then," The Brit spared one last glance as the lights in the pumpkins were blown put by the harsh wind. Even so, he felt himself smiling slightly. It had put him in a better mood actually. Maybe that was why America was always so enthusiastic. It had that effect on others too. If not, it just annoyed them. England was grateful that the past few hours hadn't been irritating. Now he could have his tea as he had originally planned. Maybe he would curl up on the couch with Crumpet and watch a film before bed. Yes, that sounded smashing.

XXX

Kiku had been rigging America's little gadgets for a while now. He was cold and tired, and his hopes of finishing it early and heading home had long since flown out the window. America had left him to do all of the work. Is that what he could expect every year? Now The Japanese man wasn't one to complain. He rarely ever even got angry. But this seemed to grate on his patience a bit. It was such an odd feeling, that he even considered it a possibility that he had taken ill. It had taken him most of they day, but he finished up all of the tricks America had asked of him. Japan's hollow eyes turned towards America's house where the nation himself was waving at him from the porch. He breathed out a heavy sigh, making his way over to his American friend.

"Herro Arfred. How did it go?" he asked politely when he was in a reasonable distance.

"Not that great dude! I didn't figure out what he's got planned. But I can guarantee ours will be way more amaze-balls. Did you finish up everything?"

"Yes."

"Alright! Thanks Kiku, I owe ya one. This is gonna be the best-one-ever!" Alfred enunciated each of his last three words with a fist in the air and a dramatic pose. Japan wondered if the traps he had set up would actually scare America more than they would England. The chances of that happening were pretty high, all things considered. He wouldn't have to tell America about the _extra_ props he had prepared. That would ruin the fun.

XXX

Halloween night had finally arrived. All week, everyone had been anxiously awaiting the night of terror. It was way too cold for little kids to be running around in costume, but they were doing it anyway. In the city streets hundreds of children big and small paraded door to door in their brightly colored outfits. There was an Elsa here, a ninja turtle there, another Elsa. Counting every little girl dressed as one of the two _Frozen_ princesses could be turned into a drinking game, there were so many of them. _Please play responsibly._ The bright orange harvest moon was full, and there would still be a couple hours before the sky would turn completely dark. Crisp leaves fell out of the air, while a chilly breeze carried them off and swirled them around as if they were dancing. Arthur hadn't been to Virginia for a while, now feeling it a familiar sight to return to. Alfred's large house was actually closer to the rural farm areas than it was to the city, so Arthur wondered briefly if he even got his own trick-or-treaters this far out. None of the lights seemed to be on inside the house, so Arthur walked around to the back, expecting a scare at any moment. Last time America had merely had Russia help him, and won right away. It wasn't the boy's style to do the same thing twice, so luckily the chances of the Soviet nation showing up were slim. Arthur had prepared his Victorian clothes for the occasion, adding a bright blue coat to make himself look like a count. The costume itself wasn't the important part however, it was the actual prank that mattered. The two of them had been doing this for centuries, and so far the score was a devastating blow on America's end. He had only won once, while Great Britain had beat him every other time. There was a strong sense of pride to maintaining this cycle, silly as it may be. England would not readily confess that he had though of his own plan last-minute this year.

As he let his boots crunch into the dry grass below, he noticed some glowing paint on the ground. A white arrow had been etched into the brown grass at his feet. Peculiar. America must have been all too prepared this year. England walked the direction the arrow pointed, carefully eyeing the dark grass for any more signs of paint. Sure enough, every so many yards another arrow kept him heading in the right direction. Soon his vision was cut off by the dark brown bark of a tree. When he lifted his head, he found himself in the midst of many more trees. A forest? How very cliché that was... Nevertheless, the arrows seemed to stop at the entrance, pointing in. There was nothing else to do but walk in. At the very least, the trees seemed to block out the wind slightly. The various shapes and sizes of the trunks would undoubtedly look more exaggerated at the darkest hour of the night.

He had been walking around for at least an hour now, just going farther and farther into the woods with each step. Ordinarily, Arthur didn't mind a good walk, but it struck him as odd that America could be patiently waiting somewhere. He was very rarely patient. The silence was starting to get to Arthur. The British Nation almost wished _anything_ would happen to distract him from the paranoia of waiting. As he got himself lost in though, he felt a distinct squishing underneath his boot. He looked down to see that he had stepped on a pumpkin, effectively breaking it open for the guts of it to spill out. Looking down the path, it appeared that there were even more leading him in one direction.

"Hah... Pumpkins. Perhaps he was tipping me off before," the Brit mused to himself. He followed the trail of them, careful not to smash any more of them. Whatever Alfred had planned, it was probably going to be cheesy. As soon as the thought had occurred to him, a sudden _thwack_ sounded from the tree above him. A cardboard cut-out of a ghost flew down into his face. Arthur did jump a bit, at the abrupt intrusion, but it would take much more than that for him to lose his resolve. Soon there were more arrows painted along the path for him to follow deeper into the trees. He ended up in a large circular clearing. If there was anywhere Alfred was trying to lead him to, it had to be here.

Just as he was expecting America to get tired of waiting and pop out from somewhere, England heard the very distinct sound of hooves clopping against the dry ground. He looked around intently as the sound grew louder, still not spotting anything but trees in any direction. A whinny broke through the calm breeze. England felt the hair on the back of his head lift up briefly from hot breath ghosting over him. He turned himself, expecting to see America in some kind of get-up, but his eyes met that of a large black-furred horse. It was a huge animal, muscles pulsating beneath the dark fur on its hide. It was a strange occurrence, for roughly three reasons, England figured. One: there hadn't been any need to ride horses for over decades, and there were definitely no horse-central farms in this area that he was aware of. Two: the beast seemed to be without its rider. That scared the Englishman into believing that America had planned to use the horse to scare him, and had fallen off somewhere. Three: the horse had intense crimson eyes that were staring straight at him. Now the second of these three dilemmas had England the most concerned, so he opted to try the easiest option first.

"Hello there," he voiced calmly to the animal. If it worked with his unicorns, surely it could work on the large black equine, "Was Alfred with you?" Now England was not a toddler, he knew the animal would not answer back. At the same time, horses were intelligent, and some even showed concern for their masters in situations such as this. The British nation stood perfectly still, and the beast breathed hot air on him again. Now it raised its front hoof, scraping at the ground like a goat ready to charge. Bad sign. Its deep beady eyes narrowed on him, looking more phantom than alive. Then it was clear to Arthur that he was not safe standing in front of the beast. The horse let out a loud angry whinny, and started galloping straight for him. Arthur threw himself to the side before it could ram into him, rolling on the ground. He would surely have bruises there later, but he couldn't worry about it for the time being. Arthur pulled himself up quickly, and watched the animal go round in a wide circle to avoid a group of trees. He had experience with horses, often times they tended to be feral with strangers. This was nothing more than that

. From somewhere in the trees above came a haunting laugh. It seemed like more of an echo than anything. It rang in a deep throaty undertone that tore into the realm of insanity. One thing was for sure, Alfred didn't laugh like that, even when he was actively _trying_ to sound scary. Soon Arthur was met with a figure, standing on a flat branch in one of the higher trees. It was a man. He wore old European-inspired clothing, with a high arching collar and a flowing black cape behind him. Though, he would have admired the look, Arthur was mainly concerned by the fact that the chap was headless. The horse came back, bucking into the air for a moment, before stopping right underneath the headless gentleman. Even though it was likely the man could not see, he stepped off of the branch in a graceful motion, landing perfectly on the horses back. Now Arthur was openly gaping. If this was Alfred's surprise, it was a bloody good one. He was almost considering forfeiting. At once, Arthur clapped his hands together in an applause. The other gentleman tilted slightly, as if in wonder. Without any expressions it was very difficult to tell.

"My my, Alfred, you have out done yourself! That performance was just fantastic. How on Earth did you manage it?" Arthur asked with great enthusiasm. He approached the horse, now feeling that its rider had it under control. "Brilliant costume by the way... can you still see in that outfit?"

" _Arthur Kirkland, you are mistaken"_ the rider said in that same deep echo-tone. England would have shuddered, had he not believed he was talking to America. Then something decidedly odd made him consider that maybe... _just maybe_ , this wasn't America. The horseman reached out a leather-gloved arm, stretching out his fingers and flexing them for a second. As if the very dust in the air were responding, a sword was materializing in his grip particle by particle. Bits of iron or steel all flew into a straight piece of metal, taking shape into a blade It was absolutely amazing effects, that was for sure. The man held the new saber above where his head would have been, and uttered a loud _HYAH_ to the animal he was riding. The horse came again, charging right for him. Arthur screamed without realizing it, running off into the forest before the creature could catch him. As he ran, he heard the laugh again, getting louder as it chased him.

"Okay, Alfred you win! Don't bloody kill me too!" in his panic, his own accent seemed exaggerated. It didn't feel like he was talking to Alfred. But if it wasn't the overly-cocky American nation, then what was it?

XXX

Alfred was jerked awake by the sound of screaming. He had planned to hide up in the tree, and jump down to freak England out as he walked by. Not part of his plan however, he had fallen asleep up there on the thick branch. No he heard the branch under him snap with a loud crack, and it finally gave way. The American nation plummeted to the ground with a quick shriek of his own, and a bruised rear-end. He sat himself up and looked around as he rubbed the back of his head. Now his eyesight was already bad, but he was pretty sure it wasn't this dark when he had fallen asleep. He stood up, dusting off his burnt orange cloak, and repositioning the white mask over his face. He was _soooo_ glad he hadn't landed on the chainsaw, where it was stuck in the dirt beside the tree. With one hand, Alfred gripped the handle of it and pulled it up easily, to swing over his shoulder. He decided to go out and look for England, hoping the other nation hadn't fallen somewhere or done something else an old man would do. He trudged on, feeling fresh paranoia welling up in his chest. He stopped dead in his tracks, as a noise broke through the silence. Alfred's electric blue eyes popped. He was shivering, but not necessarily from the cold. He heard an all-too familiar British voice shouting frantically.

"Arthur?"

As soon as he'd said it, the owner of the scream abruptly ran into the thicket and crashed straight into him. Alfred felt all the breath knocked out of him, as the British nation landed on top of him on the cold ground. Soon green eyes opened wide and the smaller nation scrambled to get off of America.

"What the bloody hell, Alfred!?" his shaky voice demanded. In fact, the short blonde was trembling all over. He looked like he wanted to scream.

"Hey whoa whoa, _you_ were the one that ran into _me_ ," America laughed uneasily. England looked behind him frantically, then back to the other country.

"Not that, you prat! The chase, and the demonic horse and—bloody hell—" Arthur cut himself off, looking ready to throw up or worse, "You win for God's sake! Call it off now!"

"I win? But I didn't _do_ anything," America liked winning just as much as the next guy, but not if it wasn't him scaring the dickens out of Britain. That wasn't a fair contest.

"Don't be daft, Alfred—that—that thing, whatever it is—"

"Can you just tell me whats got you so freaked out, Artie? Were not getting anywhere with your pronoun game."

"Of all the—do you mean to tell me you don't know abut that headless horseman that chased me through Hell and high-water!?" Alfred's large blue eyes blinked once—twice—still not understanding very clearly. Though he did hear something clopping against the dirt somewhere near them. England reached out and grabbed onto America's shirt tightly, trying to pull him up.

"Its back! Hurry and stop it!"

"Calm the heck down!" The American was about to shake England off, but for the horse showing up in the clearing. Not only that, but its rider had a jack-o-lantern on its head, glowing like firelight. Something was distinctly different about the rider, Arthur noted in the back of his mind. Besides the fact that it now wore a jack-o-lantern on its head. "Whoa..." Alfred muttered under his breath. He hardly noticed England nearly choking him, shakily holding onto his collar so tightly. The rider made a motion with his hand, and the horse surged forward, red eyes blistering with anger.

"Holy shit!" Alfred grabbed Arthur and threw him over his shoulder, taking off into a run. He nearly tripped over the root of the tree, swaggering the other way to avoid hitting the dirt. He could feel the horse at his heels, dodging to the side quickly. Out of nowhere, a cardboard cut-out swung down from the tree above. Alfred shrieked a high-pitched yell, more out of surprise than any actual terror. Besides, he'd painted that thing himself! His artwork wasn't _that_ scary.

"What!? What happened?" Arthur demanded from over his shoulder. He hadn't seen what made the American scream, evidently. For the time being, Alfred eyed their surrounding, noting that the horseman had gone.

"Uh, nothing! Don worry bout it."

"Alfred, I am capable of running myself, you twit!"

"Really!? You're yellin at me _now_?"

"Better yet, why are you running? Isn't that your doing?"

"Hell no! I have no idea, dude! Shit—" America side-stepped out of the way of a tree to avoid smacking face first into it and breaking Texas. Luckily England didn't weight all that much, so he was able to move pretty quickly. He heard a muffled laugh from behind them, where the pumpkin headed rider rode alongside them. Arthur's sudden shriek alerted him, and Alfred stopped running so that the horseman galloped past them. America set England down, remembering his request to run on his own. They both took off on foot, weaving around the trees. There was now a foreboding lull settling over the woods. From somewhere nearby there was a popping sound. Alfred grabbed Arthur's wrist and jerked him in the other direction.

" _That_ was one of mine! We can get out!" he explained quickly to justify it. Arthur didn't protest, following behind him swiftly. He caught the sharp white sparks in the distant clearing where he had set up his small firecrackers. He didn't want to use those around any trees, or Smokey the bear would not be pleased. They made it to a wooden boardwalk, overlooking the river. Alfred collapsed to his knees breathing in and out, trying to get his heartbeat back to normal.

"So..." Arthur started. His voice sounded strained and tired from the running, "You did not plan that?"

"No, I didn't plan Mr. pulp face to make an appearance! I wish I had though... that was really freakin cool. Wait—you didn't do that then?"

"If I had, would I be running into you to get away from it?"

"Huh... I guess not. What _was_ your prank then?" Alfred smirked, even despite the situation.

"Not the time for that, Alfred. What are we going to do about this? Were bloody lost here aren't we."

"Uh... well..." Arthur merely gave him a glare and tipped his head up to look at the orange moon overhead. Alfred pulled himself to his feet, motioning for the British nation to follow him. If Arthur was going to be all-business, they'd better get moving. Aside from the river, everything in the woods was looking identical. If he could find the arrows Kiku had painted into the grass, they could follow them backwards to find their way out. Unfortunately, that fire cracker he had set up was the only sign that either of them had been in this particular area before. They had reached an upper path that led up to one of the forest ranger buildings. Though no one would be there at the moment.

Hoof prints sounded in the dirt. Both blonds turned around to see the dark horse making its way up the path behind them.

"Geez its back already! Run Artie!" Alfred took off, Arthur shortly after him. The taller nation's heavy pace was halted when his shoe caught on a root. Alfred fell over, flat on his face, and his glasses flew ahead of him.

"Alfred!" Arthur hastily pulled the other nation to his feet, snatching up the glasses in his hand as they kept running. In the scuffle, the both failed to notice the building coming into view before them. The Englishman pulled on Alfred's arm to stop him from running into the brick wall in front of him. He pushed America's glasses back onto his face, green eyes flitting from the trees to the wall and nowhere to run to. It was a dead end. They were cornered. They both shrunk back into the dirt as the horseman stopped dead in front of them. The horse huffed loudly, its breath visible in the cold.

" _Did you have fun?"_ the rider voiced suddenly. Alfred and Arthur looked at each other, then back to the rider. His gloved hands moved slowly up to the jack-o-lantern head to pull it off.

"Kiku!? What the actual fu—" The tension faded from Alfred's shoulders. Japan shook some pumpkin pulp from his black hair, resting the jack-o-lantern under his arm.

"I am sorry Arfred-san, Arthur-san." Japan started with a careful smile. He looked small sitting on the black horse, wearing the unusual and out-dated attire. Without the pumpkin on his head, he looked more like a vampire, in the high collar and cape.

"Kiku, will you please just explain what the bloody hell you were doing chasing us around?" Arthur responded curtly, crossing his arms. Kiku swung his legs off the side of the horse and jumped down gracefully. He gave the animal a quick pat, earning a happy whinny from it.

"Arrow me to exprain... Arfred asked me to set up the surprises for your spooking. So I decided to cospray as the headress horseman to scare him instead."

"Gasp! Kiku, dude," Alfred replied in mocked hurt expression, "What the heck bro? I thought we were cool!"

"Wait," Arthur interjected, "If your plan was to scare Alfred, why did you chase me around before?" Kiku's gaze softened with conflict.

"I... never chased you Arthur-san. You were both together when I found you."

"But you did not have a jack-o-lantern at first, I asked you..."

"I had to have the pumpkin, or it would have been obvious that it was me. I assure you, I did not see either of you untir you were both in the same place..."

XXX

The three of them ended up back at America's place with no problem after Kiku led the way out of the woods. Alfred vowed to never again take a step in there. He also learned that using horror cliches always ended up like this somehow... then again, that's what a cliché was, so it made sense. Japan had tons of pets, and the black horse was indeed one of them. He'd also borrowed the old clothes to make his costume as effective as possible. The legend of the headless horseman may have been an American tale, but Japan was rather fond of it around Halloween. He'd decided to scare America, in hopes that the young nation would stop requesting his help for such things. It sort of back-fired however. Now America was all the more convinced that Japan was the master of spooking, silly as that may have been. Yes... Japan much preferred cute chibi ghosts and adorable things. But at least the scare had been a success.

"Maaaaan. Sorry the contest went sour this year, Iggy." America said with a yawn in his throat, when they'd arrived back at his place.

"Hmm? No thats okay... this has given me some ideas for next time. Though America... cardboard ghosts should stay off your schemes next time."

"Yeeeah... Well lets face it, its hard to come up with something badass every year!"

"Still... if that hadn't been Japan before..." It had been on his mind for a while now. None of them could quite lace the other horse and rider than England had seen however. Japan insisted he wasn't there, and American chalked it up to Britain's imaginary friends coming to haunt him. He was very much sure there had been another headless horseman there. Comparatively, it had been much scarier looking than Kiku's costume had been. Its voice was haunting, and its ghost-like form couldn't have been mere disillusion. Unfortunately there was no way to prove that. It would remain a mystery...

XXX

All was quiet within the thick grove of trees. Leaves of every color fell from them in a gentle fall wind. A horse trotted its way through the trees, phasing through them, akin to a phantom. Its thick black coat was completely opaque. Its crimson eyes flashed with demonic color. The horse's rider held his gloved hand over its reigns. Like the animal, the man merely phased through any obstacle. He did not have a head, but his haunting laugh could be heard like the soft strain of a bell clear across the Virginian countryside that evening. He would disappear again after that night. Yet he would always return... The ghost of the headless horseman.

Next Halloween~


End file.
